‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the building
All our creatures were stirring, even our mold;
The dishes were placed in the incubator with prayer,
In hopes that pure growth soon would be there;

The scientists were nestled all close to their screens instead
While swirls of DNA danced in their heads;

My coworker in her labcoat, and I with my pipettor,
Had just settled down for a long overnighter,

When out in the lab there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my microscope to see what was the matter.
Away to the incubator I flew like a flash,
Tore open the doors then saw what was trash.

When, what to my tired red eyes should appear,
But a bunch of contaminated plates, there goes my career.